


twice i have lived forever in a smile

by vindice



Series: everyone knows the stars come out at night [2]
Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Courting Rituals, Dorks in Love, Dragons, Fluff, M/M, Magic, Mukuro stops trying to act like the emotionless machine he pretends to be, Other, Royalty, Smitten Mukuro, Unconventional Terms of Endearment, You can actually pinpoint the exact moment, but it’s Mukuro and Byakuran, what else would you expect from them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-17
Updated: 2018-06-17
Packaged: 2019-05-24 06:28:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14949353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vindice/pseuds/vindice
Summary: “What took you so long, you damn lizard?” He says after a few moments of comfortable silence, but his eyes are soft and there is an undeniable undertone of affection he can’t hide.“That is no way someone like you should talk,Your Highness,” Byakuran sing-songs, eyes glinting with mirth and something else.





	twice i have lived forever in a smile

**Author's Note:**

> PFFFTT. I FORGOT TO POST IT. I’m pretty sure somewhere else is still the seventeenth. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ 
> 
> For the _Katekyou Hitman Reborn!_ Rarepair Week 2018, **Day Two** \- **Sky Day: Dragon AU** ｜ **Royalty AU**
> 
> Title from e.e cummings’ _unlove is the heavenless hell and homeless home_.
> 
> Saved under: how much shoujo and fluff can i inject to these two challenge

Wildflowers gather around the prairie, creating an endless colourful sea hued in varying shades of blue.

Amidst a hill, Mukuro stands, hands loosely clasped together behind his back. He faces east, closes his eyes, and his long hair sways in the zephyrs’ grasp, right where it is held by his low ponytail. It drifts idly, cool breeze caressing his nape.

At his feet his main summons stirs, gracefully dark, and he smiles. A small, fleeting thing only few have had the pleasure to see. Mukuro breathes in, slow and leisurely and free, his heartbeat pounding in his throat.

With limbs relaxed and inner peace, he holds back a yawn. It’s been so long since he last felt like this, no matter how much the magpie on his shoulder chirps it was just three days ago that he came to this place.

Above his head the air shifts, a burst of magic pinning his loose limbs in place so the gust of wind doesn’t tip him over. A shadow is momentarily casted upon his eyelids making him open them. His smile grows.

Dawn rises with its first rays of honey, cotton candy coloring the sky, and as much as Mukuro appreciates the gorgeous scenery playing before him, there’s something else capturing his sight.

In the middle of it all Byakuran _exists_ , loudly and bright. Snow white glory and silver shiny scales glinting purple hues where the first hints of sunshine hit, spine bent over in a beautiful arch. Wings extended freely once he skydives towards the clear, his deeply intelligent lilac eyes settled on him.

Their link vibrates within Mukuro’s core, pure magic tugging warmly in its wake. It makes his breath stutter in his lungs and longing flutter within his being.

Byakuran digs gray claws into the dirt a few meters away from him and his tiger summons bolts to the dragon’s side before he can even land properly. The robin at his head shrieks, offended that such a pretty part of the prairie is about to be crushed under his weight.

Mukuro chuckles and pats the panther at his feet. She leans into the touch and purrs, stretching placidly numb muscles before catching up with her friend in a more languid pace. He takes a look at the snow leopard resting at his side and drags his hand throughout his summons’ fur before making his way towards Byakuran.

He breathes, deeply and fulfilling. The meadows smell like damp grass and there’s a sweetness in the air that can only be accredited to the beehives at his back. Byakuran’s eyes never leave his figure.

He bends down once he stops in front of him, Mukuro’s palm settling on the biggest of the three silver horns on his snout. Byakuran radiates warmth, a nice contrast to the chilly morning, making even his snow leopard draw closer to the heat. His other hand slides a finger over the edge of the smaller protuberances under the dragon’s chin, drags it up to his cheek. Byakuran’s skin is thick, the scales tickling faintly against his fingertips as he opens his hand, but he doesn’t stop caressing his face.

Mukuro rests his forehead against the dragon’s muzzle and Byakuran purrs pleasantly, enjoying the intimate gesture they not often indulge into. His breathe warms the inside of Mukuro’s wrist.

Mornings make him soft. Mukuro hates them.

“What took you so long, you damn lizard?” He says after a few moments of comfortable silence, voice a raspy murmur from being unused almost all morning, but his eyes are soft and there is an undeniable undertone of affection he can’t hide.

“That is no way someone like you should talk, _Your Highness_ ,” Byakuran sing-songs, eyes glinting with mirth and something else. “Apologies. I had to take care of a matter with my hoard.”

He hums in understanding. Byakuran’s ‘hoard’ is a small group of people, generally orphans or abused children, that he has snatched from the places he’s been to and taken under his literal wing.

 _Much like what you do with your summons_ , something warm and kind and that sounds annoyingly like Tsunayoshi fires into his mind. A concern Reborn, as the King’s personal advisor, takes great pleasure in telling him and the rest of the crown princes it’s their subconscious.

No, Mukuro did not pick up strays. They choose to follow him on their own accord, and he certainly wasn’t about to waste a chance when it presented itself.

 _Keep telling that to yourself_ , it mocks in an uncanny resemblance of the Head Adviser himself, before falling silent.

Mukuro comes back to the present when Byakuran backs a little, enough to look at him expectantly. His confusion must be showing on his face because Byakuran huffs in amusement.

“You, second-rate fairy.” Byakuran sighs in feigned disapproval, but Mukuro isn’t about to be fooled. The damned lizard’s voice is fond. “I said, would you like to go flying?”

He feels his brows raise in surprise. Mukuro has known Byakuran for over ten years now, almost since Tsuna adopted him back when he was still ten, and never has he offered to go for a ride. Byakuran never asks him to fly together, always the other way around when Mukuro perceives something is bothering the dragon he has come to form a magical link of mutual attachment, or sometimes if the dragon is in a good mood—and even then it’s something after midnight, in a place where no one can see them. Never as the sun rises.

Mukuro has always been curious, but attributed it with a dragon thing, and also because he himself is one of Tsunayoshi’s heirs. It wouldn’t be too dangerous with abilities such as the ones the greatest spellcaster of this generation holds, nor with the control and power of a creature like the one standing before him. But it still would be foolish of both of them, to show in public and give their enemies a weakness to exploit, to paint a target on their heads.

Byakuran doesn’t fidget, because that is not what he does. Though the sheer excitement—the hint of that _something else_ he had seen hidden in his orbs—dims a little, and Mukuro belatedly realizes that in his bewilderment he had fallen completely still, taken too long to answer. Which the giant oaf in front of him of course misinterpreted as rejection.

Without giving Byakuran the opportunity to withdraw, he tugs softly at the horn now wrapped into his hand, and continues to stroke the dragon’s face. He can tell the object of his affections has put serious thought into this topic.

“I would love to,” he replies genuinely, in an unexpected display of unmasked sincerity. “I would like to know what happened for you to come to this… conscious decision, however.”

Byakuran stiffens under his palm, but doesn’t draw away. Instead he leans into the touch. Mukuro can proudly say, in the safety of his own mind—which he doesn’t completely trust when Tsuna-Reborn two point zero comes out to play, now that he thinks about it—that he knows this creature better than anyone else, so it’s easy for him to see Byakuran is full of determination at this very moment.

Uncharacteristically serious as he rarely is, Byakuran says, “I would like to make a formal request.”

He straightens his neck, making Mukuro unwrap his hold and immediately miss the warmth under his palm. Byakuran stands with practiced ease and takes a step back before setting back in, careful of not to knock him or any of the summons.

Byakuran inclines his head respectfully, and Mukuro can’t stop the sharp intake he draws. It’s the closer Byakuran has ever come to bowing down to him, to _anyone_ who isn’t Tsunayoshi himself, which is a great deal. Mukuro is well aware of the history of dragons thanks to Reborn’s fiercely imparted lessons on behalf of the King’s ancient blood: how they were hunted and massacred for their magical properties until they rebelled and took back what was undeniably theirs, vowing to never again.

(Never again would they let anyone to treat them like that; never again would they allow anyone to step above them.)

Mukuro would have to be a massive idiot, royalty or not, to ignore the importance of that inconspicuous act.

The former lilac pupils are now sharpened and orange-lighted, focused solely on him. Byakuran starts talking with a solemn voice brimmed with emotion.

“Rokudou Mukuro, Crown Prince of the Fire Kingdom, and second in line for the inheritance of the Dying Will,” Byakuran leans down and his muscles tense for a moment as he extends his wings, drops one to wrap Mukuro and the summons into a cocoon. The magpie on his shoulder yelps before the dragon’s other wing engulfs them completely in shadows. Byakuran’s eyes are eerily beautiful here; fire opals beaming in the darkness. It makes him feel assured and _safe._ “I request of you to hear my petition: I want to solidify our link. I want to have a Bond with you.”

Mukuro stops breathing. He can feel his mouth slightly falling agape. There is having a link, where the magic of both individuals entwines together of its own accord, once they have formed an emotional attachment and understand each other to the point of working synchronized without explicitly needing to communicate. A Bond is practically Soul Binding yourself to another being, forming a mental link and Harmonizing. The only people he has ever heard of to have done the same in more than a millennia are the King and his advisor. This is—Byakuran is _courting him_?

The robin settled on the panther’s head shrieks happily and the magpie now sitting on the snow leopard’s back chirps in agreement, while his feline summons purr contentedly, even his lion. Byakuran keeps talking.

“Would you do me the honour of flying throughout the Capital as the sun rises, our magic blending with the one of this Ancient Ground?”

He can discern the inner contents of that sentence. The only ‘Ancient Ground’ that comes to mind is the Blessed Land within the Castle’s walls, which means–

“Oh, my god… you already talked with Tsuna, haven’t you?” It’s not a question even if it’s phrased as one. Were this a different moment, he would have chided himself for the slip in Tsuna’s nickname, but he’s too enthralled to care. Right now he can’t hide the amazement in his voice nor the wonder shining in his orbs. It encourages Byakuran, his eyes gleaming even brighter, and Mukuro is mesmerized.

“I want to spend my existence with you.”

Astonished, Mukuro breathes—a deep and sharp thing that wobbles at the end with the giddiness bubbling in his chest. He brings a hand to his mouth to cover the abrupt chortle that leaves his throat, drops it not a second after it touches his lips.

His mouth opens and closes unceremoniously as he finds himself unable to pick which of all the thoughts swirling his mind to respond with. It makes something in Byakuran relax, because the corners of his eyes soften amusedly and his pupils expand a millimeter for a fleeting second before returning to the thin lines they were, even though nothing else changes.

Byakuran huffs softly, warm breath falling onto his face, and Mukuro emerges from his stupor.

“ _It would be my absolute pleasure._ ” Mukuro answers in Dragon Tongue, the very same language Byakuran taught him when he was fourteen.

It’s a murmur, contents shared only between the two of them, eartnest and filled with fondness.

**Author's Note:**

> Byakuran hoards people and he has decided this prince is his. Sorry Tsuna, you know the drill. 
> 
> (In case it wasn’t clear, Tsuna is half dragon.( ◠‿◠ ))
> 
> If you see anything wrong tell me; I’m half blind and I did this in one day without glasses.
> 
> I was delighted to see in my emails that, as I was finishing editing this entry before going to work, Ijuin posted [this](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14955503). I felt a giggle bubble in my chest with only reading the tags as to how both of us, unexpectedly, were going a similar path.
> 
> Can you guess who are each of Mukuro’s summons?


End file.
